THE FATNESS OF THE EARTH. 215 



fine long thread for its nest which another wanted, 

 and in which the wings of both became entangled. 

 By mutual consent, apparently, they fell at my feet 

 and waited patiently for me to disentangle them, each 

 one receiving and flying thankfully away with the 

 half that I gave it ! 



One of the nocturnal animals frequently disturbed 

 by my Man Friday, and to which I have not yet 

 alluded, was the armadillo (the Tatusia hyhrida), an 

 inoffensive creature that lived in holes of its own dig- 

 ging. We used to hunt it on moonlit nights, and at 

 these times Thomas Ned's cur dog came into action. 

 The armadillo is a night prowler, but the first one I 

 ever saw was early one morning at the top of the 

 hill, sniffing about the sill of my house. 



The hill sloped steeply to the woods at that point, 

 and when the animal saw me it just rolled itself up 

 in its shell, like a scaly ball, and bounced down tlie 

 hill at a rapid rate. When I arrived at the place 

 where it had stopped rolling, expecting to be able to 

 get hold of it (as it is a slow runner), I found nothing 

 but a mound of fresh dirt, beneath which the arma- 

 dillo was digging into the bowels of the earth much 

 faster than I could hope to dig it out. 



As you know, of course, the armadillo is com- 

 pletely incased in a suit of armor which renders it 

 unassailable to ordinary animals ; it has a long, pointed 

 snout, strong sharp claws, and a general make-up that 

 particularly fits it for digging. It must be a smart 

 dog that can catch up with one, once it has got those 

 strong fore-feet at work ; and even with shovels and 



